A Christmas Angel
by Bow Echo
Summary: Jeff is given a reminder from two women he loves, and returns home for the holidays earlier than planned. As he reconnects with his five young boys, he is given a gift he will never forget from a man he barely knows.
1. Chapter 1

**A Christmas Angel**

 **It's that time of year again; there is the perfect excuse of a seasonal fic to distract me from my other stories, all of which desperately need a chapter adding!**

 **I initially thought this would be a one-shot, after looking at the word count so far, and realising I am not as close to the end as I'd thought. I have decided to make it a short story, of three or maybe four chapters, with the aim to post the final chapter just before Christmas. So, I will save my season's greetings until I meet that challenge! Wish me luck, short stories, other than one-shots, are not something I have tried before. I hope I don't get so carried away that it bridges the gap between two Christmases!**

 **I make nothing nor do I wish to. These wonderful characters, gifted by the Anderson's, are borrowed, loved and placed back with care for others to play with.**

 **For Creative Girl 29, who recently reminded me, it may be good for me to post something new.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

 **Chapter 1: Hideaway**

Jeff watched the flakes of snow dance outside the window of his 34th story office, the white-out giving the impression he was existing in a bubble amongst them. The whole of the Manhattan skyline was greyed out or completely hidden by the storm, not the imposing sight he was used to. The winter sky, for the fourth time in as many days had claimed the earth. It gave a sense of serenity. A feeling in direct opposition to the thoughts reeling around inside his head, as the phone had hit the cradle in the minutes before the window had captured his attention and stayed his anger.

' _You get your hide on a plane home Jeff Tracy, or I will drag it back myself_!'

His mother had never been known for beating around the bush. Although, in fairness, she had started with gentle persuasion. This was the fifth call on the subject in two weeks and he knew his refusal to budge was wearing on her patience.

" _It's the 17_ _th_ _Jeff.. They need to enjoy the run up to Christmas with you, even if you are too stubborn to see it_. _They need a tree, permission to enjoy the season_ … _And. Your father wants me back home, he deserves more than a wife that just flits into his life when the kids are a school. I cannot pick up your slack for much longer!_ "

He had returned her plea with assurances that he would be all theirs by the 23rd, the presents had been bought, wrapped and would be shipped back with him. He'd arranged for two weeks leave and then, he'd promised faithfully, family would be his number 1 priority.

" _It's not the gifts Jeff, its time you spend with them, traditions are important. And whatever you are thinking right now, it's not about what I want_ " Her voice had lowered to a whisper " _They miss her too, and working from home for a month or so will not cause the company to collapse. What's the use of being the man in charge if you don't call the shots on your own time_?"

He had a thousand arguments for that. The legal team were in the middle of negotiating the take-over of a competitor. He had three prototypes in full testing and the launch of his high altitude passenger shuttle scheduled for the end of January. The excuses were primed and ready to trip from his tongue, but they were stalled as he heard a deep intake of breath at the other end of the line.

" _Jeff it's been three weeks since you were home, they needed more than the three days you gave them for Thanksgiving. Come home, buy a tree, attend the school performances … above all, BE A FATHER! You have a seven month old who is forgetting what you look like_."

That hit him in the guts and the heart in one perfectly aimed punch. Seven months! It had been only seven months since he had gained a son and lost a wife all within an hour. It felt like a lifetime but stung every day like it had happened only the day before. Surely his mother could see how the first Christmas without her …. His gaze got lost in one beautiful snowflake that danced on the wind in front of his window, before catching on the glass and melting into a droplet. It's individuality spoiled by chemistry. He looked away, surveying the four walls that had been his life for the past four months. A life he'd thrown himself into, whatever his mother thought it was not an escape, he was needed here, especially after taking close to five months off in parental leave. The place had gone to shit without him!

He huffed to himself; after all, the re-occurring theme of his mother's argument persuading him to return home had been about the boys needing a tree. A Tree! Nothing she couldn't cope with herself, and _that_ was not his job, it had never been his job. It had always been Lucille's. He paced as the thoughts hit in quick succession, retrieving the boxes decorations from the loft that were labelled, by colour, in her beautifully, bold handwriting, was his sole contribution. Well, apart from filming the tree going from naked as nature intended, to modern art created by several pairs of little hands.

That brought the first smile of the day. His attention turned to the screen on his desk. The mouse hovered over his private files, photographs, videos, private e-mails some with snippets of the children's exploits while he was away from home, others most definitely for his eyes only. He hovered over the list, took a deep breath and opened the one Lucille had playfully entitled Treemageddon!, taken exactly a year to the day. He leaned back in his Italian leather chair, today he would take the pain, today, he deserved it.

The file opened. A still shot of his grinning wife cradling her giant bump and rolling her eyes at a Gordon powered tinsel explosion on the lowest three feet of the coniferous giant.

He pressed play.

His family sprung into action to the backing track of an exasperated Virgil trying to gain some symmetry and tidy his brothers offering into a garland effect. Scotty and John were staying out of the ensuing argument, adding balls higher up the tree, laughing at the tinsel war going on below. Lucille's eyes were shining with mirth as she ruffled their youngest child's hair "You know what your brother is like Gordon. He treats the tree like an art project." Jeff snorted. Who was she kidding! As soon as those boys were in bed she would spend the next three hours re-arranging everything until she had a tree fit for the Oval Office! The camera moved closer to his wife's face, the shot dropped to the floor. He knew that was when he had kissed her, an action confirmed by the chorus of ' _Ewwe that's disgustin'_ out of shot. There were tears springing in his eyes at the memory of the soft skin of her cheek, she always turned he head to offer her cheek in the presence of the children. The tears started to fall, blurring the screen. By the time focus had returned, the family were in a line either side of the tree for the topping out ceremony. "Whose turn is it this year?" he heard his own voice question.

"Mine." Scott's demanded, with authority. "Gordon's last year, Virgil did it the year before, before that John, so me!"

The camera exchanged hands. Lucille's playful voice, 'heavy lifting's your remit," which she accompanied with a giggle, "although, my whole existence is heavy lifting at the moment." He pictured her patting her belly out of shot. The elastic effect she'd called it. With each pregnancy her belly seemed to explode more quickly than the last. With Scott she'd only started showing at five months gone, by Alan she'd looked full term with three months to go. The tears returned. He could not see the screen but could perfectly visualise the scene. Scott on his shoulders with 'the angel that had seen better days' in his hand, waiting for the boisterous, FIVE...FOUR...THREE…TWO… ONE! The light switch on, perfectly timed as the angel was placed on the top. The weight bending the crowning glory of the tree, so she looked like she was looking down on them. A purposely positioned fairy light lit her white dress from within, giving the effect of holy light emanating from her being. The one decoration that would make the cut with certainty, remain untouched by his wife's hand until the guardian of the tree was ready to be boxed up again for the following year. This Year!

A cough shook him from the memory. Jeff's pressed pause, and his gaze returned to the window.

"Yes, what is it!" It sounded harsh from the man with the open door policy, but then usually he didn't indulge in things that should be kept private, in the office. At least until the last of his co-workers had left the building.

"I j…just wanted to wish you h…happy holidays Mr Tracy, and to t…thank you for allowing me to spend time with you on your p…project." The man was blushing profusely.

"Take a seat Hiram." The man deserved a little of his time. He studied him. Man was maybe a little strong considering he was only eight years older than his eldest. But, the teen in front of him had worked with them for only four months and made more headway into the clean fuel problem than his overpaid team. If he couldn't claim man, he could certainly claim genius, and future Nobel Prize winner! If Jeff were still a betting man he'd put money on it now. They were launching in January, ahead of schedule, due to his tireless work. Eighteen hours a day for four months, and he had insisted on being paid nothing but expenses for the privilege. For a man juggling the second year of his degree in Cambridge, and what amounted to little more to him than an internship in New York, he sure didn't make any sizable dent in the expense budget that had been allocated him. Jeff felt sorry for the boy; he would miss the launch of a shuttle that would be flying on his hastily patented fuel formula by a matter of weeks. But, this part of his studies was over. University would claim him for at least two more years, and Jeff smelled a doctorate in this one, adding another couple at least, possibly more if they funded research for him. Jeff was certainly going to keep an eye on his career and make a job offer a regular conversation starter. The seat proffered was the least he owed him.

"You wife is beautiful s…sir."

Jeff looked at the freeze frame. Lucille, head on to the camera with light in her eyes, "Yes, she was." She'd turned the camera on herself, her playful wink captured. He knew she was already planning the covert tree redecoration that would happen while little eyes were firmly closed.

"Sorry s…sir I didn't know, and didn't m…mean to interrupt…." He was still standing, uncertain if the seat had been offered as a hastily adopted conciliatory courtesy, or if it was genuinely meant.

Jeff took the ambiguity away, opened his bottom draw, brought out two glasses and graced their bottom with the amber liquid of choice.

Hiram shook his head while taking the seat, "I won't s..sir. I just wanted to say b…before I leave, that it has been an h…honour to w…work with you."

The company would miss him, "The offer's there Hackenbacker, I'll take a call night or day if you change your mind. I could do with a man like you. I'll fund your studies this side of the pond." Jeff was starting to feel grateful for the return of 'Jeff the business man'. This world had nothing missing from it, and he was a fully functioning man he recognised.

"I have y…years of s…study ahead." His associate responded, taking the glass of water now offered instead of the alcohol.

"Promise me first refusal." Jeff ventured.

"That, I can m…most definitely do!" Hiram smiled at him across the desk, "I'd l…like to w…watch the launch on the c…company feed if you will allow me to a…access it."

Ah, the reason for the visit, behind the subtext of goodbye and thank you. He wanted to watch his work come to fruition. And, Jeff couldn't blame the man for that.

"Allow it! I insist upon it!" Jeff drained his glass, stood and offered his hand, "It is I that has been honoured to work alongside you. Are you travelling home today?"

The young man in the glasses nodded.

Jeff picked up the telephone.

"Sandy," He covered the mouthpiece "JFK?"

Another nod to the affirmative.

"Sandy, please arrange Mr Hackenbacker a taxi on account to JFK. If his flight's not first-class, upgrade him, and if it's delayed due to the weather, book him into the Hilton."

"You d…don't n…need to do t…that S…sir." Hiram stuttered more noticeably, showing pinking signs of embarrassment at the fuss he was creating.

"I don't need to, but I do want to." Jeff assured to the retreating enigma.

Jeff watched the man leave; he met many men that made little or no impression on him. He was certain he would be thinking about this man for many years to come.

He drained the already poured second glass, his eyes searching the still shot of his wife. The draw to the once comfortable but now uncomfortable past was just too much, he could feel a familiar itch to make a dent in the bottle and wallow in pain. He pressed play, a further thirty seconds of footage before the video ended with his wife turning the camera on herself again and whispering "Jeff, these are the memories that will keep us warm in our old age," With that she puckered up and kissed the camera and her lips were frozen in time.

His wife had just reinforced everything his mother had tried to tell him. He sat up in the chair, placed the bottle back where it belonged, "I hear ya honey, I hear you."

He picked up the telephone "Sandy, reschedule all my appointments to the New Year. I will be leaving tomorrow for the holidays, fend all but the most urgent of calls….And Sandy … You can _work_ from home, Merry Christmas!"

He knew is PA well, she would of course put in the hours where needed but not within family time. On home-working days, she was the midnight mailer, the call maker to the background noise of a playground, the pre-dawn spreadsheet designer. He should've taken a leaf from her book on his return. When it came to home-working she delivered for him, and did not forget her other, more important, responsibilities. Her understanding, and totally besotted husband, David, the twins Grace and Jackson six years old and full of cheek, just like their mother. Jeff would ensure that suitable gifts for all were sent to her home address. She deserved it after the year his moods had put her through, and he'd been in work for only half of it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Still hopeful of the Christmas week finish! Although, the initial sense of smugness at finishing the Christmas shopping has worn off, and the list of things still to do, without trying to finish this fic, is daunting to say the least. So, no promises, but I will try my very best.**

 **I make nothing nor do I wish to. These wonderful characters, gifted by the Andersons, are borrowed, loved and placed back with care for others to play with.**

 **For Creative Girl 29**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

 **Chapter 2: Homecoming**

Jeff had promised her that his arrival would be on the 18th, and on that at least he was delivering. There had been necessities in the office that had stalled the 10:00am departure until a little after 2:30pm but then, the hastily re-arranged schedule of Jeff Tracy had that knock-on effect these days. The Cap-Ex decisions made during his few months absence had been dissected by him in is need to regain control of the company. The payback for his hands on approach, not a darn man or woman in his employ was prepared to sign off a five figure purchase order without his counter signature. To them, Jeff Tracy had changed beyond recognition, he'd known that, but equally he had relished holding onto part of his life that was still very much in his grasp to mould and have power over.

The tyres hit the gravel driveway with the crunch of the stones below. Their familiarity, a once an inviting sound, that he had, in just a few short months, been an expert at avoiding. They no longer held the capacity to pulsate his heart to a chaotic rhythm of giddy anticipation, or invited the butterflies in to play in his stomach. A power she'd still held over him after twelve years of marriage, increasing rather than decreasing through their whirlwind courtship and a relationship blessed with many homecomings.

Coming home now reminded him of an inverted spin. Entry, initially panic inducing. Buffeting, the fight to regain control from the turbulent airflow and so far, his visits ended in stage three as the inner turbulence won ….., resulting in a deviation from the original flight path. For Thanksgiving he had meant to stay home for the week and had managed only three days. Beating a hasty retreat back to control and back to strength, recovery from the spin here, in this place …. Well, recovery here was nigh on impossible. But he held the voice of his wife in his head now, begging him to try.

As he closed the car door Jeff heard the noise ten feet from the door, a melee of sound, each voice trying to be heard above the others. With one exasperated tone trying desperately to shush them into submission.

"It's meant to be a surprise."

Jeff couldn't help but smile to himself. The closed door a barrier to the changed household inside but the welcoming sounds from within pushed his maudlin mood to the side.

Entry.

He would allow the stall, the panic was imagined, there was only love gifted in the noise behind the door. And love, wherever it comes from, deserves to be acknowledged. After a short lull, the decibels raised again, they would have heard his gravelly entrance. His mother had obviously rallied the troops into a heady mix of activity and excitable anticipation at his homecoming. What would greet him he could only guess, a banner maybe, or a cake? Whatever it would be, he noticed his smile was still in place. Perhaps it would be a mix of arms and legs running full pelt into him barely giving time for the door to open to its most inviting angle? A welcome just like at Thanksgiving. Whatever it was, it took a deep breath before he had the strength to face the other side of the door to find out.

The stall.

This time he would embrace it, accept it, and go with the flow without panicking. The return home, perhaps forever, would be tainted by the smothering of bitter-sweet syrup, but tastes did change. And he had missed the boys. Instead of feeling that they could only fill part of that void, he would concentrate on the fact that in avoiding them and the pain that came with them, he would only create another. His mother and wife he deferred to, and the inner turbulence calmed.

One last, deep breath.

He pushed the door and stood on the threshold, taking in the sight of his family. His family, minus the set of eyes that usually glassed over on his return for the holidays, the season always made her more emotional. Last year she had flat-out cried into his shoulder, then, blamed her hormones as her boys looked at her with a mix of worry and curiosity.

Jeff felt a lump rise to his throat.

 _Breath, embrace, just buffeting of the wings_. He steeled himself, reminded himself to keep the smile and pushed that ghost to one side.

His smile seemed to grant the boys permission.

The banner was raised briefly above the head of the two eldest boys, before one side was dropped and not given a second thought. Virgil, following John's lead started the short run to his side, both shouting "Daaaaaaaaaad!" until contact silenced them. Virgil hit hard, before melting into his sides. John was softer in his greeting, but equally in no rush to remove himself from where he had snuggled deeply into his side. Jeff instinctively ruffled the hair of the two attached boys, before returning the pressure of their arms and showering kisses onto their cheeks. He remaining silent, not certain if his voice had the strength to utter a greeting without betraying the mix of emotion that had been welling inside desperately in need of an outlet

Aware of his less than fifty percent stats as he welcomed the warmth of their bodies, he lifted his eyes, made contact with his mother's. Then his eldest's, in search of his next play, Scott had the hand of an uncertain young boy, barely free of the label of toddler, clasped within his. A boy, who was content for now, to hide his eyes behind the safe legs of his brother while braving the occasional peek. Jeff watched intently, as Scott dropped to one knee to whisper in Gordon's ear, the indecision of a three year old hit home. His son would not be hiding now if he had not felt the need to hideaway himself.

Instinctively Jeff did the same; still with his arms around his children, but they were now outstretched to accept more.

Finally, with his hand still in his brother's, the shorter legs of Gordon started the walk, albeit hesitatingly at first. His eyes darting to those of his big brother's for reassurance. As he got closer he became braver, Jeff found himself grinning, before sticking out his tongue. Gordon instantly dropped his brotherly crutch and clattered into him. Followed immediately by Scott, who free from his self-appointed responsibility, made contact and sank into his chest. The added weight to his precariously position, a one knee to the floor balance, toppled the group to the floor. That started a wave of giggles, which Jeff found himself encouraging further by tickling each in turn.

Then his other senses kicked in as he allowed their laughter to give him a minute to re-orientate himself, judging by the smell that greeted his nostrils he'd scored three for three.

Guilt always hit him when he arrived home, this time it carried the greater weight of a longer absence. He had returned to work with the start of the school year with good intentions. Only leaving for New York after he had waved the school bus off on the Monday, and ensuring his return by the Thursday drop off. By the end of September when the test pilots had finished putting the bird through her paces, the working week had morphed into the standard Monday to Thursday, nine til late.

Then very late!

He'd leave early Monday, kissing the heads of his sleeping boy's goodbye, returning late on Friday evening when three out of five were already asleep. Embracing a life that allowed him to reclaim the man he was before, and function, with the rhetoric in his own head confirming that he was doing it all for them. The reality he now accepted was different. He'd welcomed the return to decision maker, negotiator, bank roller and ball-breaker. Relished the half-life that made the label of widower something he never had to hear in overheard conversation about himself. In New York he was never pitied. All in all, he had found a life that was just easier live. In the last month he'd returned only once and he deserved every ounce of guilt weighted in the small bodies on top of him. He wished he could bottle this feeling, something to open and sniff while he was happily distracted at work under the excuse of making a future for them. The high altitude passenger shuttle should seal their fortune, but with three more projects close to fruition, he was equally aware that if he was not mindful, there would always be something else.

A wail turned his attention fully to his mother, who had a chubby, crying attachment on her hip. The boy had grown, for the others a few weeks apart barely registered in the physical. Alan, however, had cut another tooth, gained length and weight, and finally had hair that didn't blend to his scalp. Jeff assessed the changes as Alan's lungs noisily protested at something happening in his day which he had not expected. Jeff raised himself from the floor and kissed the head of all his boys one by one. His mother had been right to put the pressure on. Right there, in a child that hadn't reached his first birthday, was a living, crying testament to his recent failings as a father. He didn't need to bottle anything, just remember this feeling the next time his mother made a call so he would immediately act upon it. He would remember to thank her properly for that later.

He made the walk to his mother, lowered his head to kiss the top of his youngest head. Alan tried to bury his head into the shoulder of his grandmother. He kissed his mother's cheek, trying to hide how much the rebuff had pierced his heart. He noticed the shadows under her eyes that portrayed the enormity of what he'd asked her to take on. A task, that was to be have been a temporary arrangement.

"He'll come round," His mother stated, "Good to see you Son."

"You too mother. Hope they've behaved." Jeff knew better than to ask over her health, he'd receive short-shrift and a chiding for fussing.

"You know your boys Jeff, little angels," She accompanied it with a wink.

"And I know you mother. White-lies are the good ones you can forgive yourself for." His mother linked his arm and guided him to the rear of the house and into the kitchen. As they made their way into Lucy's pride and joy, Jeff noticed the table had been laid with enough food to feed and army; all geared up like a child's party tea.

"The boys have made you a celebration dinner," his mother confirmed.

He glanced at the mountain of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cold meats, potato chips and fairy cakes. While listening to each boy excitedly make a comment about their participation, each encouraging him to claim something created by their own fair, and hopefully washed hands. In Gordon's case, that maybe wishful thinking, so he made a mental note to limit his consumption of chips.

By the time the meal was over, his mother officially handed over the reins.

"The schedule's on the fridge. Alan's down to one sleep in the day. School and day-care both finish Thursday. Mae has said she'd have the younger two while you attend their performance, 6pm tomorrow, if you want a seat, queue from five, Harvest was standing room only. Costumes are made and hung in the laundry. Freezer is stocked. All batch-cooking is labelled so there should be no surprise offerings."

He walked her to the door, **"** Are you coming back tomorrow?"

"No!" She stopped as if in two minds, and then softened her tone, "No Jeff. I'll see you at school for their play." She paused to smile at the sets of eyes at the kitchen door, "I wouldn't miss their Christmas show for the world!" Her voice lifted in volume, "Be good for your father boys." She gave them a wave which encouraged the _four_ of them to charge to the door and cover her in hugs and kisses.

He felt a pang of jealousy.

He embraced the spin. That was something he needed, something to fight against and win.

As he watched her leave, it dawned she wasn't angry with him. His mother was ripping the plaster off, and leaving the wound to breath.

He shouted after her, "Thank you…. For everything! Especially, for not giving up on me!"

Her retreating figure waved over her shoulder without turning to look back.

The sound of the gravel crunching under synthetic rubber signalled he was now on his own.

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

Scott had mentioned it first. A self appointed representative for the others, Jeff surmised.

"Can we dad? Can we get a tree today?" His eyes shone bright with expectation.

He had supposed they could, but he was unsure what space there was left to put did not know how his mother had managed the juggle. In two and a half days in his charge, the house had gone from show-home to bomb-site. Every room had a trail of toys, paper and pens, books left idle, clothes dumped. The kitchen, he had to admit, reeked of his failure to cope. Nearly every pot and pan in the household was used, left on the side and in urgent need of a Christmas miracle. There just been too much going on with for boys and a baby with a strict routine that failure to follow brought tears. Play-time had taken priority over the spare minutes between waking and the two hour, non-stop, bedtime ritual. And Jeff had discovered that taking the age-range into consideration was a necessity to keep everyone happy, so it was about all he had time for, apart from the necessities that kept a human alive.

Allowing time to play was one thing he would not feel guilty for!

But, sooner or later, practical considerations had to come to the fore, and today was the day. From now until his mother returned with his father for Christmas Eve for their annual three day stay, he was on his own. She was testing him, he knew it, and he needed it, he was equally aware of that. But still, she'd expect by her return that he'd at least managed the basics. It was not proving to be an easy task. When silence eventually descended and the quiet in the house became his enemy, he needed the distraction of a different sort. His brain to lose itself in occupation, and guilt free, he had formed a late night re-entry into the working world. A choice much easier than travelling room to room with his mind finding a ghost of the woman he loved at every turn.

But, he hated to be seen to be failing.

The happy balance was something Lucille had always managed without breaking into a sweat or losing her temper. She always managed to make time for the boys, while working part-time and keeping the house in an orderly state. When home he had happily surrounded himself in the persona of 'Fun-time Frankie'. A name she'd playfully referred to him as when asking for his assistance with the chores, and his help had come in the form of getting the boys out from under her feet. Still, she always appreciated it, kissed his cheek on their return and 'air toasted' team-work.

It took a team to successfully run this household.

In the immediate aftermath, there has been a string of neighbours, who along with his mother had allowed his grief not to be weighted by things he could not manage on his own. Jeff cast his eyes around the living space, a space that had now had less room to live than the name suggested. It looked like a Cat-5 had come for a whirlwind visit. He looked at the four sets of expectant eye's waiting for his response regarding the festive addition. Alan hung off his hip to keep him from the death trap floor, neither expectant nor aware of the struggle of the man holding him. He gurgled in delight, as if adding to the plea, but in reality was making conversation with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"How's about, we tidy this place within an inch of its life to make room?" Seemed fair to cut a deal, inwardly he was dreading the protestations.

"I'll do the kitchen." Scott volunteered, the hardest job, claimed by a boy with a twinkle in his ice-blue eyes.

"Laundry and books." John added, enthusiastically.

"Me and Gords will do the toys and pens. Make sure the lids are on Gordon!" Virgil instructed with authority to his younger brother. Starting his own task-list by grabbing a box and clearing the dinosaur collection, that had claimed the lazy-boy as a substitute for the-land-that-time-forgot.

Jeff popped the youngest into the play-pen with a selection of 'easy to hand' soft toys as he watched with interest at the band of brother's jumping into action. They must really want a tree he thought to himself, as he walked to the kitchen. Chores had been something he was an expert at trying to avoid when he was in short-pants, _tried to_ being the operative words with his mother! "You wash, I'll dry." He called to his eldest.

Scott looked at him quizzically, "Or we could stack the dishwasher, leave the pans to soak on the side and just wash the bottles." He stated, giving a fair assessment of what need to be done. Completely unaware he was showing up his father's lack of domesticity.

"You sound like an expert." Jeff commented.

"We all help with the chores for Grandma."

Of course they did!

"Grandma said not to make it easy for you, you had to ask. She says help is always better appreciated when asked for." Scott added, pinking slightly, as he inwardly tried to work out whether that tit-bit was for public consumption.

"What else did your Grandma say?" Jeff nonchalantly commented as he bent over to stack the dishwasher.

"That we were to be the good boys she knows and loves. And,…. Erm … well, to ask for a tree if we didn't get one within a few days."

Jeff snorted. The bloody tree! Anyone would think his mother had shares in the forestry commission!

"I can do this dad. Why don't you get the decorations down?"

"How about we finish this together, and then you foot the ladder for your dad?"

That brought a smile from the eldest that lit up his whole face. Smiles from Scott always came free and easy, but this came deep from within, his soul ignited lighting his eyes.

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

Jeff took the scissors to the string keeping the spruces branches in check.

"Stand back boys," He instructed.

The trees branches sprang from trussed up prisoner, to shapely room adornment instantly. Alan's face was a picture; a tree in a house did not seem to compute. Eventually he took the lead from the others, and while in the arms of Scott, laughed while pointing at the new feature. Before losing interest and pulling his brother's hair.

"We let it stand for a bit, regain a little shape before we decorate it," Jeff commented, breathing in the luscious aroma emanating from the new purchase.

"What colours we doin' it?" Virgil questioned.

The boy had always loved his mother's insistence that they go for the three colour approach, even though they had a multitude of options that resided in the loft. The memory for Virgil could only be two years old, but is was ingrained. Jeff inwardly sighed; at least three out of five of his boys would grow up with some of her influence. Jeff choked the emotion back, returning his gaze to the naked tree while he swallowed it down.

"You choose," He gifted his middle son.

"Blue, silver, and white!" Virgil decided without a second taken to deliberate.

"We had that last year." John commented. "What about green, gold and red?"

Virgil looked from his brother back to his father. His eyes had started to mist over, and his bottom lip was being chewed within an inch of its life to stem the flow of tears that threatened.

"What is it Son?"

A sniff.

"Now, now …. Come on, …You can tell me," Jeff whispered, dropping to his knees to look the boy in the eye. From its first success on his return home, it had now been formally adopted when addressing a child showing signs of uncertainty or threatening tears.

"Mom chose them last year," He stalled; his brown eyes pleading where words now failed.

Jeff waited. John opened his mouth to speak, and Jeff found the look that could silence any of his offspring before their vocal chords vibrated.

Virgil's chest heaved as he took a breath, "I want it to stay blue, silver and white. Every year, Forever! I want it to be always mom's choice." The dam broke, tears streaked down the cheeks of his son. Each a glistening trail adding to a weight in his own heart. Jeff looked around the room, at a loss, desperately searching each of his offspring's faces for an indication of where to go from here.

Scott was the first to react, handing Alan to his father he rounded his brother's shoulders, "that's a lovely idea Virgil," Although Scott had turned his face away from him, Jeff knew that there was the same mist in the eldest's eyes.

At that moment, Jeff realised his mistake.

He'd come home, made fun his priority and created an elephant in the room by not mentioning her. He'd kept all thoughts of her to himself, forced anything that would create an emotional response to the back of his mind. The boy's had taken his lead, perhaps even protecting him from hurt by not pushing the subject. But they needed their mother's memory keeping alive; he had always known that. He'd just relied on photographs doing the hard work for him. But they needed to be allowed to talk about her, cry, shout, call-the-world-out on the unfairness of it all. Equally, smile, remember her and above all realise they were still allowed to love her. Have permission from their father show their feelings in a public domain, and see him show a little of the pain he carried around with him every day.

"I think that your mother would love it if our new tradition was to keep to her last colour scheme for the tree," Jeff stated.

Instantly he regretted the deflection of the feelings inside of him, he took a breath and brought them into his arms as much as he could while carrying Alan.

"Boys, I miss your mum every hour, of every day. I am sure you do too. We keep her alive in our hearts, and remember her by talking about her, sharing our memories...…." Virgil looked uncertain; Gordon was not listening, too busy striping the bottom branches of the tree. The older two though, there was something behind the eyes of the elder two that encouraged him further. "In fact, do you want to watch the home video of us all decorating the tree last year?"

Virgil smiled. Scott looked to John.

John picked up on the vibe from the eldest, "Is Gordon too young?" he whispered to his father.

Jeff considered the three year old holding on to his leg while sprinkling his shoes with needles. Gordon had joined the huddle but was far from clear about what had caused it. He was still making his tactile introduction to the tree. As if sensing he was required to respond, he stated simply "Gold, like Johnny said!"

Jeff smiled, his eyes twinkling with tears at his innocence.

"No." Jeff stated resolutely to the elder boy, still smiling down at his second youngest, "If he has any chance of holding memories, we have to help him Son. Even, if it is upsetting for him initially, and difficult for him to understand right now."

He had never been prouder of his boys; they were primed to look out for each other.

With the naked tree in the corner of the room, Jeff Tracy took the centre of the couch. Alan on his knee, with his next youngest sons on either side of him and his eldest two either side of them.

He pressed play. Allowing his wife to captivate him once again, as her noticed this time, more of her interaction boys, rather than the camera and by default himself. A scene he had passed him by in the office.

While the warmth of his boys to sinking deeper into him comforted his aching heart, he was starting to recover the spin. And, it was not long before Jeff Tracy allowed them to see tears leaving his eyes for the first time since they laid their mother to rest.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I made it to the final chapter, and the promised Season's Greetings.**

 **Merry Christmas to all!**

 **I make nothing nor do I wish to. These wonderful characters, gifted by the Andersons, are borrowed, loved and placed back with care for others to play with.**

 **Creative Girl 29, you were right! It was definitely good for me to shift my focus. Thank you for being a friend, inspiration and fuel to my muse.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

 **Chapter 3: The Angel**

Co-sleeping had always been something he and Lucille had tried to avoid with their children as babies. A night of unbroken sleep was simply not worth the risks. That meant as the boys grew they were rarely in the habit of joining their parents in the king sized bed. Occasionally, a nightmare would bring a visitor for the night, but even in illness the boys tended to stick to their own rooms. Since her death, Jeff had rarely been in his own room, let alone slept in it. In the months in the immediate aftermath, he'd been a sofa-surfer in his own house. Sweeping the evidence away, before the first of his boys had woken. Sleep coming in fits and starts, at the will of a newborn and long over by the first of dawns light. By his return to work, when sleeping at the New York apartment and not in a chair in his office, he had claimed one of the singles his boys used when they'd visited with their mother. The void at the side of him in a bed made for two, too painful, too real, and too cold, without the warm body of his wife at the side of him. He may have spent many a night in that bed on his own before her death, but after, he just couldn't do it. On his fleeting visits home he'd managed from September to date, he'd returned to the sofa. Moving to his room, before dawn, to lie on top of the covers alone, fully dressed, and wakeful. For the hour or so before the first of the little feet would go in search of him, or Alan awoke in the cot beside him, he was at his loneliest.

That night, after a few family home movies and an evening decorating of the tree, Jeff had suggested it. When the boys had excitedly chorused their approval, he'd gone to bed with them at the unheard of hour of half past eight. Of course, with four boys in the bed, sleep did not come to Gordon until nearly half past ten, but, every elbow in the ribs, every shout from one to the other complaining about the lack of covers had been worth it. And, once his son's quietened down, the chatter turned into gentle snores, within the comfort of the additional body heat sleep came easily for Jeff. No clock watching as the night ticked by and his brain refused to shut down. It was peaceful, calm, with no tossing and turning, and no nightmare bringing a restless fight to consciousness. It was deep, restful and contented.

Until.

He was woken with a start by cries from his middle son, who was stood at the foot of the bed sobbing his heart out.

"She'd didn't come!"

"Who didn't come, Son?" Jeff asked through half closed eyes and the palm at the end of his eldest's outstretched arm across his face.

"The Christmas Angel!" Virgil stated breathlessly through the sobs that heaved harder at the question, frustrated that his father had not managed to cotton on without further explanation. The rest of the brother's stirred one by one, coming to, with an equally perplexed expression on their faces. Apart from Gordon who had gone from snoring loudly to prodding a sleeping Alan through the bars of his cot in 0.2 seconds!

"Who?" There was nothing for it, but to demand elaboration through bleary eyes. Jeff had nothing to console the boy with until he knew exactly what on earth he was talking about. And the boy was in desperate need of comforting. Jeff slid down to the end of the bed and wrapped his arms around him.

"Shhhhh now, take a breath. Who didn't come Son?"

"The Christmas Angel _always_ comes to make the tree prettier!" His raven haired son explained, choking back the next sob and sinking into his father's chest, "Mom said it was _her_ job to make the tree the best it could be for Santa."

Jeff suppressed the snort, turned it into a gentle shushing as his boy clung to him. Only his beautiful, perfectionist, wife could come up with a story which would give her full, guilt free, reign for the re-decoration of the tree. A tree, that their artistic son would have memorised the positioning of every decoration. He could imagine her hastily contrived explanation when caught out after the fact. She was good! A quick lie of the white variety, cover her tracks and absolve her from the criticism that came with her desire to make changes to the decorative flair of the children. He just wished he'd been privy to that snippet of information.

Jeff thought for a moment, "maybe, so many trees went up yesterday that she was fully booked, bet she visit's tonight." Jeff assured him, squeezing him harder, while contemplating his own qualifications for taking up the mantle of the invented-off-the-cuff, seasonal visitor.

"You think?" Virgil raised his tear stained face to his father.

"I do. For sure! Now all of you go and get dressed, while I take care of Al. If you set the table, I'll make pancakes for breakfast."

"Yes' sir," the eldest two chorused. John rounded the end of the bed taking Virgil by the hand, adding his own words of comfort as they made their way out of the room.

"Come on Gordon, I'll help you," His eldest offered, ushering the now bouncing three year old from the bed.

His son turned in the doorway, "Christmas Angel? You've never heard of her then?"

"Something between your Mom and Virgil, I think." Jeff stated, "But it's important to him Son, so, … you know, much like the big man in the red suit, we keep this just between ourselves."

"Understood, Sir. Last year Mom had a little help you know" Scott confirmed, before adding "you need a hand with anything when the others are in bed, you just let me and John know. Mom couldn't stretch so well last year."

Jeff waited for the last of his boys to retreat and turned his attention to Alan, who was trying to pull up on the bars of his cot to peek over the bed to find the source of the voices.

He gifted his father with a broad smile.

"Come on sunshine, let's get you up an attem,"

Alan clapped his hands together wobbled and fell to his seat, the immediate shock that threatened tears dissipated at his father's laugh.

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

In assisting the creation of breakfast all four of his boys were dusted with a festive snow effect. Most of the adornment had been accidental as they each took a turn in becoming sous to his own claim of head-chef. But the final batch fell afoul of the competitive spirit of the elder two. Scott snatching the bag from John who had insisted it was his turn to make the mix and Scott's to swirl his creation around the pan. Neither got the opportunity to argue the case further as the bag exploded and covered most of the kitchen and all of its inhabitants in white dust.

"Clean that up!" Jeff declared to the eldest two as the initial shock wore off their white faces and the laughter had started to ripple round the kitchen. The collapse into giggles was encouraged further by a round of applause from Gordon requesting an immediate encore, there were tears of laughter streaming down the faces of the elder two now, infectious in nature, the tears of the morning were long forgotten by Virgil. Jeff turned to the wall before his fake anger at the additional chore, broke into a smile on his own face, "Every last bit of it, the surfaces, the floor and yourselves!"

A yes'sir chorused around the kitchen.

A knock at the door interrupted Jeff attempts to direct the removal of flour-fest from the kitchen.

"I'll get it!" His eldest declared still laughing hard.

As the minutes ticked by and the eldest failed to reappear to assist in operation clean-up Jeff went in search. Found the smiling boy at the door, deep in conversation with a delivery man.

"It's for you, Dad." Scott turned and handed Jeff a medium sized box.

Jeff tipped the man, wished him a Merry Christmas and closed the door. He looked at the box. Posted from Cambridge in the United Kingdom, forwarded by the office and it certainly perked his interest. Just as the man that had sent had it in the months before he returned home to finish his studies. But, he had promised himself no work while the boys were up. The sender definitely came in that category of his life. He looked to his eldest, whose eyes were still glistening through the flour mask. He could only imagine what the delivery driver was thinking as he was greeted at the door by the boy.

He placed it to one side. ' _not now, maybe later_ '.

He returned to the kitchen clapped his hands together, "Now boys, how about we head into town, get some ice-cream, enough supplies to feed an army for the holidays, and re-stock on flour?"

This encouraged more giggles. Jeff smiled at his middle child. "Ten minutes to lift off, now let's get this place ship shape and go have some fun."

The chore done, Jeff rounded up his now fresh faced troops and corralled them towards to door. He took a glance at the box left on the side. ' _Definitely later',_ he may need Sandy to work her magic and select a return gift to be hastily shipped across the Atlantic.

 **OooOooOooOooOoo**

The trip into town had been exhausting. Even with Alan safely snuggled in the stroller and Gordon on the buggy-board, it had hardly made a dent in the energy required to keep tabs on the elder three as they stormed ahead with their missions to assist the trolley dash. Each determined to get to the promised land of ice-cream as quickly as possible. Each of them, barely pausing to cast a look in the direction of their father as they rounded the end of an aisle and disappeared out of view to claim their assigned goods. And while the boys split two ways, Scott taking command of Virgil, his own progress round the store became emotionally draining by the enquiries made by the townsfolk.

Mrs Stanford asked ' _how the family faired'_

Ged Stevens commented _'How it was nice to see them all together, it had been a while'_

He responded with the required pleasantries, a forced smile and an apology that he did not have more time to stop and chat.

Ms Lyle, the Librarian, stopped him next, at the cashier with all the boys within earshot, _'How hard this time of year must be for them all, if there was anything she could do he was just to ask'_

This was why New York had become such a sanctuary, each well meant sentiment, a painful, heart stabbing reminder that there was a person missing from the family outing. All adding to the energy required just to make it through the day without breaking down. He had wanted to scream at them through his fake smile but instead he had thanked them for their kindness.

By the time they had returned there was only time for a quick meal before Jeff started on the bed-time ritual, starting with Alan's routine which always began with a bath, albeit a quick affair. A function to the necessity of cleanliness, before he drained the water and immediately started a fresh draw for son's number three & four, allowing them time to play as he watched and fed Alan a bottle sat on the end of the bed. Their bath time, he had discovered in the last few days, was more of an extension to playtime than functionality. If orders weren't barked to find the soap and the sponges they would think nothing of getting out and dry without any fragrance hitting their skin. There was no denying that Jeff enjoyed to watch their imagination come to life, as plastic dinosaurs and sea monsters pitted battle against the Justice League. So much so, that the water was almost cold when he came with giant bath towels to call time on their adventures.

Alan was sleeping soundly, he had the monitor tucked into his jeans pocket and he closed the door, ushering the other two towards their own room. There was no easy escape, a book was demanded and he lay on Virgil's bed with both of his son's reading the giggle inducing 'Father Christmas Needs a Wee'. The author, he decided, could not have children of their own. A book was meant to aid them slipping into sleep not encourage a party in the bedroom. Although Jeff had to admit that the smile on Virgil's face was perhaps worth the extended settling down period. A smile that had been present in the morning at flourgeddon, had been worn away as he'd hovered at his legs while the townsfolk had given him their heartfelt wishes. As Father Christmas gave his sigh at the end of the story, so did Jeff. He closed the book, kissed the boys on their foreheads and lifted Gordon from Virgil's bed, settling him in his own junior version, next to his brother's.

"Night daddy," Gordon whispered then rolled to his preferred curl and started sucking on index and middle finger, something he'd done to self-comfort from the minute his hands had discovered his face.

Jeff smiled, "Night Son." then he ruffled the mop of sandy blond hair and turned to the elder.

Jeff tucked Virgil's covers in tight around him, just the way he liked it. Most babies make a noisy protect when ready to be free of the swaddle. Not Virgil, that boy had grown up liking to feel constricted in warmth.

Jeff kissed his cheek.

"You think she'll come tonight,"

Jeff mentally kicked himself; he had forgotten that the evening he had hoped would give him a chance to check in at the office had been earmarked for something more important to his middle son.

"I'm sure we're on the list, it'll be perfect before Santa Claus comes," Jeff smiled, "You think we should put a sign on the tree pointing to our bathroom too?"

Virgil giggled, "Not on the tree, we'll write a note to leave with the treats on Christmas Eve. Did we get carrots?"

"Yes," Jeff assured, "Santa _and_ the reindeer will be well fed by the Tracy's."

Virgil turned on his side, his back to his brother's bed and his face to the door.

Jeff blew him a kiss as he retreated, making sure to leave the door open a crack to allow a little shard of light into the room. He smiled, his mother had been right, they all needed this.

By the time he returned to the living space Scott and John were both reading, waiting for the call to assist with the deconstruction then re-construction of the tree. Jeff sighed, he could quite easily slip onto the couch, kick-off his shoes and enjoy the silence, but there was a raven haired boys morning tear's now fresh in his memory.

"Now angels in training one & two, don't suppose either of you want to take the lead on this assignment, and give the new guy a hand learning the ropes?" Jeff ensured there was energy to his tone.

"Mom like the tinsel like this," Scott confirmed, dropping his book to take up the strands of festive bling, twisting ascending garlands of silver and blue in turn around the branches.

"No two baubles the same should be together, in fact, the colours go in sequence like this," John proceeded to consider the problem like a calculation that had to be done in the fewest moves.

"And the ones we've made are always at the front," Scott added, his tinsel mission complete. He retrieved the glittered pine cones one by one, decorations that Gordon the day before had added around the lowest skirts of the tree. Jeff watched as Scott took each turn, carefully placing them next to the lamp of a fairy light to capture their sparkle in the glow. Gordon's only contribution, now sat high and proud at the top of the tree, just a shave down from the angel-that-comes-to-life. They had made one each year with their mother since Scott's little hands first had the capability of a craft session.

Sixteen in total.

Sixteen, now precious memories, carefully replaced on a tree that had brought them together as a family in activity, were now gifting him a round two with his eldest children. He took one from his eldest hands and added it to one of the higher branches.

Scott's first creation.

Each one was so more than a thrifty save on decorations; he could see why his wife loved re-decorating the tree. Each time her hands strayed onto a trinket created by little Tracy hands, must have created a smile inducing link to Christmases past. Last year, while he spent the evening in his office, door firmly closed, making up for the business hours missed during Treemageddon. She'd put the youngest children to bed, and enlisted a couple of willing helpers. Spent some quality time with the eldest two, there was no doubt in his mind that they reminisced about their own hand-crafted trinkets. In life Lucille always found sharing memories with her children something to make her eyes glisten and sparkle. This connection was something else they would have missed out on had Virgil not had made his disappointment vocal.

There was still so much about his wife he was only just discovering. So much that only the boys could teach him.

"I'll make some hot chocolate before bed," Jeff offered, once the task was complete. "You are both welcome to join me in my bed again." He cringed as he said it, all slightly too desperate, and all about his own needs.

"Nah, the others will think they missed out," Scott confirmed.

"I'm good." John added.

Jeff looked forlornly at the sofa as he made his way to the kitchen.

He returned with three cups of hot chocolate, covered in a mountain of whipped cream, cocoa powder and marshmallows. The boys eagerly claimed their prize for helping.

"What's in the box dad?" Scott questioned, blowing cream up his nose.

Jeff shrugged his response, "Not sure Son, it can wait."

"It might be a present," his eldest argued.

"hmmm," Jeff responded, blowing on his drink, "possibly."

"You should put it under the tree," his eldest persisted.

Jeff knew which battles were worth fighting, he placed his mug on the coffee table and retrieved the box from the side in the hallway, placing it on his knee. He took out his multi-tool from his pocket and spliced down the packaging tape.

An unwrapped box, inside the brown box with a letter sellotaped onto the top, written in the familiar spidery hand of his recently departed apprentice.

 _Mr Tracy,_

 _I hope you forgive the imposition._

 _This is for your Christmas Tree, should you wish to use it. Attach the holo-projector to the wall and direct the light at the top of the tree._

 _I'm afraid I witnessed a little of your private movie before I announced my presence, and when I returned home I thought that one of my personal projects may bring a smile to you all this Christmas. I used a stock image from the company files. If you have any you would prefer I use, then please do not hesitate to contact me_

 _If I am wrong, then please accept my humblest apologies._

 _H.H_

"What's it dad," John questioned.

"A gift from a new friend," Jeff commented without embellishing. He had a feeling this was something he needed to do in private.

"Finish your hot chocolates boys. After Christmas Eve I promise that you can have late nights until New Years Day."

The boys did as instructed without question, kissing his cheek as they departed.

As he heard the creak of the stairs, for some reason Jeff's heart was beating out of his chest. Somehow, knowing the man that had made the gift, and the tone of reverence within the letter, he just knew.

He obtained the ladder from under the stairs, found a hook to fix to the wall and commenced to hand the small black box onto the wall. He angled the eye as instructed and switched the box on. Taking a deep breath he turned from the wall to the tree.

There she was.

A breathtaking diamond bright light, his wife the size of a Barbie doll, with wings outstretched either side, arms outstretched in front. Her strawberry blond hair flowing out behind her like a wind had caught it, her eyes sparkling with life and her pink lips smiling.

It took his breath away. Just like she always had in life.

As he watched her, a silent tear escaped down his cheek, and he knew he had been right to dismiss the elder two. It would have been harder to do this with the boys present. In fact on first view, and without Lucille's story of the Christmas Angel, he may well have been tempted to package it up and protect himself from the feelings of loss and pain that were tumultuously building inside. But, he had been gifted a Christmas Angel, of 'The Christmas Angel' by a new friend. A friend, who was wise and kind beyond his years. As Jeff smiled up at the image of his wife he considered, even the timing was perfect. When his six year old son woke tomorrow, he would think his mother had been given one of the most important jobs in heaven. And, Lucille would always be a visual part of their family Christmas.

As he lay on the sofa looking up to his wife, he caught an imagined twinkle in the eye. Her whispered words on the family movie ghosted through his brain. And there, under the watchful gaze of his wife, he decided he would be home for longer than just the holidays. In the New Year he would be putting the New York apartment on the market and only spending the odd night away from home. Move the research and development sector, where his heart truly lay, closer to home. Leave the corporate nonsense to the future eight-figure bonus earning execs. Once they had launched the first of Tracy Industries globe shrinking endeavours, he would take a step back from weekly board meetings. Maybe grace them with the 'ball-breaker' on each quarter, but Lucille would want him here, with her boys, making memories.

He grabbed his phone off the side. There would be no return gift that had little thought behind it other than to even the score delivered in time for Christmas. Such a thoughtful young man deserved something equally thoughtful. Something that would come with the added bonus of being able to thank the man in person, accept the branch of friendship offered.

He typed a hasty instruction to his put upon PA, although at past nine in the evening, this would be when she made up for any work hours lost while her children were up, ' _Not back in NY until the week before launch. All meetings will have to be taken by a conference call. And no-body gets past you Sandy. You decide what constitutes urgent, my inbox is yours until the 2_ _nd_ _….. Please arrange for Hiram to attend the launch. Also, a little personal information on the man, I would like to know a lot more about him before we meet again. Oh, and I hope you are getting some work in around your fun!'_

Jeff snorted at his own cheek, but she would love that addition. He could see the smile in her hazel eyes as if she was across the room from him. If she had been in the room, she would have probably flicked him the inverse victory sign to accompany her laugh. But in the _new_ working world of Jeff Tracy, from now on she would rarely be in the same time zone as him.

As he dropped his phone to the floor and his eyes once more rested on the gifted apparition of his wife. He considered that with the help of the lifestyle choices of his PA or 'work wife' as Lucille fondly called her. The dogged determination of his mother to show him what was really important, his loving sons and the new friend that took a risk when gifting at Christmas. He was ready to take on the pain and survive it. He settled back, covered himself with a comforter and started to doze under the watchful gaze of his wife.

He was drifting in a lifeboat with his wife, her arms around him, when the baby monitor came to life starting him from his contented dream. He looked at the clock, 2:30am. Alan hadn't woken in the night since his return home. He was an early riser between six and seven usually, but Jeff had not had to ascend the stairs in the middle of the night since the lad had been introduced to solids. The noise that had woken him was not a cry, a babies babble, perhaps a conversation with a soft toy. If Lucille had been here she would have stayed his instinct to go and check, but she wasn't. His eyes darted to the tree and the tree topper with welcoming arms.

"Honey, you want to see how your youngest has grown?"

Jeff smiled at the silence, wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and made his own creaking progress up the stairs. The boy was on his feet at the bars, talking to the shadows cast by the moonlight on the walls.

Jeff lifted him from his bedtime prison, "Come on sunshine, there's a little angel I want you to meet."

As he rounded the living room door, Jeff hitched his baby son up to his own head height and pointed to the bright light on the top of the tree, "That's your mother Son,"

Did he imagine the smile widen on the holographic image? The illegible chatter and smile from his youngest was not imagined.

"She would have loved to stay to be your mother, but the heavens needed an angel. We will never allow her memory to fade and she loves you Alan, you will never be without her love, we will all remind you of it constantly" Jeff whispered into his baby son's ear, without taking his eyes from the vision of his wife.

As his eyes glassed over, the chatter ceased and the head of his youngest child nestled into his shoulder, content in sleep. He wrapped the blanket around them both and carried his youngest to bed, laid him gently in his cot and cast and eye to the bed at the side of the cot.

"It's our bedroom now," He commented to his sleeping son. He undressed leaving a pile of clothes on the floor that would have had his wife's eyebrows skyward as her eyes rolled. Jeff peeled back the covers and entered the coldness of the sheets, sliding down the bed he claimed the fingers of his youngest son through the bars of the cot.

"Night Son, losing her would have been a whole lot harder without you."

 **The End**

 **AN - Marked 'The End' as the bulk of the story is complete, but I feel a short epilogue is required. I can't help thinking that Brains deserves a personal thank you, and a lifelong friendship deserves a beginning. I apologise, it won't make the post for Christmas, but hopefully it won't be too long after.**

 **Hope you all have a lovely Christmas in the meantime.**

 **Thank you for reading and a big thank you to those that have left such lovely comments.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN.**

 **Belated Happy New Year to you all!**

 **Firstly, an apology for the delay, there has been a slight motivational hangover after a hectic Christmas and uphill struggle to get back into routine!**

 **Secondly, thank you to all who have read, followed, hit favourite and left such lovely comments on this short story. I appreciate it more than you can imagine.**

Epilogue

On the flight from Kansas to JFK, Jeff tried to take his mind from the all-or-nothing feeling in his gut and focus on the dossier his right hand woman had handed him as he entered the cabin of the hired jet. He buckled up fingering the edges of the brown folder but his eyes soon drifted into the distance lost in the dark sky as the jet rose through the thick and building cumulous canopy. Invisible in the darkness, the only telltale to the water vapour barrier was the buffeting of the jet as she tried to break free, a sensation that Jeff had always found comforting. The folder remained untouched, it was hard to concentrate, this was the first leg of a journey that would make or break his bank account and/or reputation. He was now only hours from the meet-and-greet with the big players. And, acutely aware he only had a few hours to throw a few goodies at them, persuade them of the need to shrink the globe in the form of faster air travel, and then deliver all, and indeed more, of their expectations stoked by his marketing department. If the few invited guests, all prospective buyers and journo's gifting free publicity, were here for the novelty factor and not with any serious interest in buying into the Tracy brand….. Jeff sighed. Then, he was about to be a bankrupt, single father of five young boys. He shook it off, returning his eyes to the hard copy of a file that had sat in his inbox for the last few days.

Jeff had always preferred the tactile intimacy of the hard-copy, he had hovered over the click to print in his office at home on a number of occasions while the older boys were at school and it was only he, Gordon and Alan. Each time he had been reminded by a small voice of the promise he made to himself to keep work away from family. Jeff smiled; just the thought of his young balls of boundless energy brought his lips into an upward curl. He had thought his promise to stay away from work as much as possible while at home would have been a hard promise to keep, not so. Jeff had missed the majority of his eldest three's pre-school years, and he had found as the Christmas whirlwind morphed into reality, that each day brought new milestones, belly laughs and occasionally exasperation. The later he'd grin about by the time he'd got them all tucked up and he had a breather for himself. A breather that in reality was a graveyard shift e-mail-a-thon with his PA and the technical team in preparation for the biggest day in Tracy Aviation's history.

The jet took a steady climb to cruising altitude and once again he fingered the file in front of him. He opened it determined to find something to shake the feeling of dread from the pit of his stomach. A body part which chose that moment to growl and gurgle confirmation of the swirling rise and fall of nerves pitted against zero calorie content. Jeff wished he'd had an appetite for breakfast at 4:00am. With her usual psychic link to his every need, his personal saviour placed a strong cup of coffee and a pastry wrapped in a paper napkin in front of him. She squeezed his shoulder before taking the seat opposite, opening her laptop and occasionally peering at him over her frameless glasses. One thing about his work-wife, she knew when to break a silence and when to let it run on unhindered. Jeff was too god darn nervous for chit chat. He mouthed a thank you and settled back into the leather, pushing the building certainty of him being at the helm of a damp squib and about to be responsible for his entire team having to hit the job-market out of his mind.

He let the black on white take him out of 'what if's' threatening to ruin his day before it had started. He had thought it would be a little light reading to take his mind off the biggest day in his company's seven years in existence. Within the first few words Jeff realised this would be anything but light.

Sandy had unearthed an eighteen years olds existence and found a Shakespearian tragedy played out in a just a few paragraphs.

 _Hiram H Hackenbacker_

 _Born: Hresh Hiram Patel of Ballygunge, Kolkata, West Bengal. To Hresh and Preya Patel. Hresh a research assistant for Koltech and Preya a oncologist working at the university hospital. No live siblings, Preya had lost a daughter at six weeks, two years after the birth of Hresh, a year later she had given birth to a stillborn daughter._

 _Both parents had died in an earthquake ten years ago. Hiram was rescued after thirty three hours in the dark in the wreckage of his home. The traumatised boy had to be pried from the bodies of his dead parents. The attached news report listed his injuries as a miracle, a dislocated shoulder, fractured radius and dehydration. A follow up medical report concluded that he was suffering from severe PTSD. In the attached press report it stated that the 'Kolkata miracle child' had not spoken a word after several days in hospital._

Considering the photograph's Sandy had attached of the devastation to the district, he had been lucky to be alive, but the thought of a lost, lonely and traumatised boy played heavily on Jeff's mind. Was what he had been through luck? Was surviving but losing everything you had ever known really a miracle?

Jeff re-read the intro and swallowed hard, the lump forming in his throat refusing to budge. He chose this moment to look across to his Personal Assistant; a telltale glisten in her eye confirmed the effect the information gathering exercise had had on her. He took a gulp of black and sweet trying to aid the swallowing down of the emotion. His appetite suppressed, he placed the flaky, almond decorated, breakfast on the fly, to one side and continued to read.

 _After a month long stay in hospital and after a plea for willing relatives went unanswered, he was looked after by Christian school run by the disciples of Saint Teresa._

Sandy noted that no files could be sourced from the orphanage or attached school.

Jeff looked again to the clouds below, which to the east were tinged with a sun fighting the darkness for airspace, the orange horizon in the distance confirming the day had started where he was heading. He returned to the paper and re-read Sandy's note, for those three years of his life, at least on paper, he didn't exist to the outside world. Jeff tried to imagine the boy's life in a strange place, brought up in an unfamiliar religion while mourning the loss of his parents.

He couldn't, not even close. The Hiram H Hackenbacker of today had fought hard to become the man he was today, of that Jeff was certain.

He turned the page.

 _Finally adopted at eleven, he was taken to England by a fifty year old, childless, Professor Hackenbacker. A man, who had entered India on a yearlong sabbatical had returned home with a new bride and adopted son._

Sandy had noted in red pen that the adoption file had been requested and that the request had been denied.

Jeff found himself absorbed in this man's life. So much so his mind no longer ran away with the potential ruin of his own family, the speech he should be practising lost importance as the ache in his heart forced the need to read on.

 _The re-named Hiram Hresh Hackenbacker had been placed in a foreign school system, which gifted him parental contact only at Christmas, Easter and Summer Vacation._

Now that fair and square broke his heart in two, the boy had passed from one institution to another.

At s _ome point in the boys 16_ _th_ _year his adoptive mother had left his father to return to India. And after six months Hiram joined his father full time at his place of work, becoming a Cambridge undergraduate a year early._

Jeff wondered whether he pinned for his adoptive mother or whether scant contact in his high school years had cushioned the blow. Not a question he was sure he should ask the man directly, but Jeff found himself needing the answer.

He pushed it away and continued.

 _Before the end of his the first semester his adopted father had died of a massive stroke. Hiram had fallen under the protection of a familiar institution and a group of Professor Hackenbacker's close friends._

Jeff wondered why his mother hadn't come for him. Another question he would have no right to ask when they met again. But the boy was in his head now, hardwired within an instinct to protect and look after him. The gifted intellectual had only the memories of a seven year old confirm what being part of a family should be. Jeff checked himself, the emotional read was giving an emotional reaction, and after all apart from a paragraph or two he had no real clue about his family life after the adoption. His brain was making gigantic leaps and he knew it. If he wanted to find out about the man he was going to have to invest time into really getting to know him. Jeff knew he would, even before the gift, Jeff had found himself drawn to him. Initially he had to admit, for his brilliance, but there was just something else about him. Something now compounded by the snippet of his life story that Jeff had just read

The boy's academic record was the document close, along with an article and photograph Sandy had managed to lift from the local press. The image showed a familiar young man with a cricket bat in the air, smiling at his adopted father as he returned triumphantly from the crease, 123 not out. His tally winning a Cambridge inter-college grudge match.

Perhaps Jeff's assumptions had not been fair. Even in the photograph he could see the pride emanating from the professor.

He checked the date on the article. His father had died little over two months later.

All Jeff could really glean from the black and white in front of him was that the man had no one on god's green earth he could call his own. Jeff cast his eyes into the golden clouds through the porthole window; the boy that had taken a shot in the dark sending him a personal gift for Christmas was firmly breaking his heart. His own boys had suffered tragedy but they had each other, a parent and a close family who would always be there for them. He could not imagine a situation where his own extended family would not step up and offer his boys a home if they needed one. His mother would fight the local authority tooth and claw for legal custody should anything happen to him. He realised in the suburbs of West Bengal things should not be judged by a westernised standard, but still, an adoptive mother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, second cousins once removed, surely the boy had someone!

A gentle cough startled him.

Jeff's threatened boiling blood reduced to a simmer at the sound, he was aware his own heightened state of nervous energy was amplifying every emotion within.

"Mr Tracy, we'll be landing in ten, you have thirty minutes for the presentation, the launch is on schedule, weather forecast excellent and we will be in Sidney within five hours. Particular attention should be paid to the contingent from the EU, China and Brazil. All have expressed interest in accommodating the passenger shuttle."

"Excellent Sandy, thank you." He passed the file back to his PA, "and especially for this. And Mr Hackenbacker? He's made the journey?"

"Arrived yesterday, he's been looked after by Jeffries in R&D, should be already with the technical team at JFK, He'll be on the flight before we have completed the obligatory lights, camera, champers and smooze session."

Jeff laughed. Hadn't realised until then how much he needed the release.

"My perfectly planned itinerary has a little time set aside for him?" Jeff asked.

"While you have taken the longest Christmas vacation in history, I have followed your instructions to the letter and added a little finesse of my own. By the time we have gone around the world in eleven hours, the board will take up the heavy lifting and sales patter avec heavy expenses; I know how you hate the social aspect of the close. I have booked you a suite at the Hilton and Hiram has been invited to supper."

"What would I do without you?"

"Remember that next time I suggest my salary needs uplifting." Sandy bantered.

"Ah, but Sandy you couldn't work for anybody else." Jeff returned.

"Maybe not, but equally you couldn't find anybody as tolerant as me to work with." Jeff smiled as she finished her sentence with a familiar wink.

The wheels touched down and Jeff got to his feet, reluctantly taking the tie his PA handed him, "Open neck policy from here on in." He grumbled as he lifted his collar and placed the tie around his neck. Sandy's hands reached towards him to tidy the attempt, Jeff batted her hand away, "Sorry, just the nerves." She smiled and Jeff sighed, no point telling her that tie-duty had always been the job of a drop dead gorgeous, 5ft 7, strawberry blond, perfectionist. He struggled on with the Windsor, grateful that Sandy knew when to back off and not push it.

He gave himself the once over in the mirror as he donned his jacket. Took a second to run a hand through his salt dashed hair and give himself a silent pep-talk. Satisfied with the human packaging fronting the practical application of the bid, he took a deep breath and descended the steps to the tarmac.

"Here goes nothing," He commented, more to himself than his colleague following him into the crisp morning air.

ooOooOooOoo

Jeff dropped the phone onto the bedside cabinet. His brief call home to his mother to ensure that all was well at the homestead had been interrupted by excitable chatter from his eldest children as the phone was passed from ear to ear. The fact he had been plastered all over the news had had them in high spirits. It had occurred to him as Virgil commented that he was now famous, that only Scott would remember the last time his face had made the headlines. He grinned, enjoying the hero worship the brief call had gifted. He had finally managed to end the call by assuring them he would tell them all about it when he returned home at the end of the week.

He sank back into the soft pillow and closed his eyes reliving the adrenalin of his recent ride. The thrust was something he had not encountered since his NASA days, the cheer in the cabin as the flight was released mid air from its piggyback lift over the Pacific was a sound he was sure he'd take to the grave. The Tracy Shuttle had reached Mach 3, cruised at 65,000ft, and they'd made New York to Sidney in Four Hours and Thirty Six minutes. And, the majority of the flight time had been seeing off the landmass of America before the heavy lifter had released the shuttle to her maiden voyage proper. His heart was hammering in his chest just reliving the last twelve hours. It had been a 'helluv a day', as his dad would often comment when hard graft reaped the best of agriculture's rewards.

The reception at Sidney had created a melee of interest with the world's media. And although he had not yet received confirmation of success in the form of an order, he had one hell of a feeling that he would have to get considerably bigger premises to deal with the expected interest from overseas. By morning Jeff Tracy fully expected Legal to be dominating his inbox as pre-drafts came in for his approval. As he lay there taking the last few hours while his team were elbows deep in the dirty-work of entertaining those with deep pockets in the 'city that never sleeps', one thought sobered the adrenalin.

Lucille had been not been there to share in their success.

And it was theirs to share, she, as always in anything he had ever done since meeting her, made every sacrifice possible so he could follow a dream. She had seen him through the worst of times, the loss of a loved career, the debt trying to forge a new, the failures, legal battles that had at times threatened their family home. And now, with the taste of a comfortable future within his grasp, she was not there to reap its rewards. His arm traced the empty space at the side of him, and he found himself yearning for the angel at the top of a Christmas tree to talk to. The box had been removed after the Christmas period to his room, angled to project onto the head of Alan's cot. A move the elder children had assumed was for Alan. In fact the move had been much more selfish than that. Lucille once again shared his day at the end of every day. As Jeff got to grips with sleeping in a bed without her physical presence, he had continued their nightly ritual of talking about the days events in bed, but now it was to a small, silent, open armed, figure on sentry duty at the cot. And as he talked to his wife in the evening, he was woken everyday to the babble of Alan, stood in his cot chattering to a figure he could inexplicably put his hand through.

An action that broke his heart afresh every morning, but even though it hurt like hell he had neither removed the gift or himself from the room. The ten minutes every evening when his spilled all to his wife a cathartic release to end each day.

A gentle knock on the door lifted him from his thoughts.

Hiram?

He rushed to the bathroom to throw cold water on his face.

A man that knew more about loss than anyone he had ever known did not need to be greeted by bloodshot eyes and maudlin spirit. Not that he could ever claim to know him after five brief meets and a dossier that he was now embarrassed he had commissioned. As he walked to the door, he felt like a man that had just read someone's intimate thoughts with absolutely no right to do so.

Jeff peered through the spy hole, and couldn't help but smile as he watched the man adjust his glasses, in what he had already pinned as a display of nerves.

He opened the door.

"Hiram! So pleased you made it!" Jeff extended his hand and clasped his guest in a firm handshake, mentally admonishing himself for the over-zealous and out of character greeting. He took the hysteria from his tone, "Apologies for not making more time during the day to talk to you. High maintenance guests, but, high maintenance is who I need sell to. "

The man hovered at the doorway, nervously shifting from foot to foot, a move similar to Gordon when he refused the call to the bathroom in case he missed out on anything.

"Come in" Jeff backed away and extended his arm, "Take a seat, room service is ordered."

His guest looked reluctant to take the seat proffered. Jeff thought back to his last meet with him at the office. He'd been uncomfortable then, but he'd sat down because wanted something. He had a hunch that the way to this man's heart was through the brain and not the stomach. He'd need to get on safe ground, allow him to relax then... well maybe he'd get the chance to thank him personally for the gift. Felt a little off to run ahead with emotional outpouring of thanks while the man was so obviously uncomfortable in his presence.

"So, you had the part of the experience from the flight deck. I take it there were no teething problems." Jeff stated as he took a chair and waited for his guest to take a seat.

Hiram smiled and took the chair opposite, "P…perfect, slight roll on the thrust balance at r…release, but I think you can shave time off still." Jeff listened intently as he poured a glass of wine, stopped before the wine had hit the second glass by the shake of his guests head. He switched to a bottle mineral water, pouring it into a tumbler and offering it to his now animated guest. "You'll get the report t…tomorrow Mr J…Jeffries said, but it's all g…good reading on first look through. I'm meeting him later to p…pick his brains."

Jeff watched as the man's skin started to pink. Jeff felt sure that an unguarded admission that he was 'second best' company for the evening had mortified his guest as soon as the sentence had left his mouth.

"Ah, Jeffries, you have a fan there. He could not speak highly enough of you." Jeff confirmed with a smile. Behind the smile his mind was wandering to the contents of a file he had read that morning. He wanted to quiz him, take the small opportunity to get to know him, but he wasn't being fair. That depth of disclosure came with friendship. And he was acutely aware could not claim that, even though he had been drawn to the man opposite since their very first meeting.

He allowed the interruption of the arrival of dinner to re-group his thoughts and work related conversation dominated. As the fork and knife closed together on an empty plate he realised he had not even gotten close to the reason he had invited him in the first place. And he also noted that his guest was pushing food around his plate. A few more minutes and Jeff had a hunch he would be looking for an excuse to leave.

Jeff gulped the last mouthful of his Saint Emillion, "Hiram." He stalled, this was perhaps something he should have prepared for. "Hiram, thank you for your gift. I can't tell you what it meant to my boys." Nowhere close to the truth Jeff admitted to himself before continuing, "What it has meant to me." That was better.

The cheeks of his friend pinked again. Jeff knew he was not going to reply and could have kicked himself for making this a face-to-face thank you, when this was the sort of man who would have obviously preferred an e-mail.

Jeff changed tact, "I've never seen anything like that in my life."

Jeff watched as the man fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a silver compact, "My P..papa made this for me." He opened it up, a dancing holographic image of what Jeff assumed were Hresh and Preya Patel. He daren't ask, didn't want to divulge that he'd pried into his life. "My p…parents." Jeff kept the silence as his companion cleared his throat. "Papa w…worked on holographic t…technology in his spare time; he made it for me when I was t…thirteen. It's lifted from a w…wedding video he accessed from their cloud account, a c…costly legal battle for him, but he said their ac…account was mine by r…right." Jeff poured a second glass allowing an interlude and time for the man to continue should he wish to. He did, "I loved w…watching Papa work on this at h…home."

All Jeff's earlier preconceptions about the professor vanished as he computed the warmth and love spilling from his guest.

All the questions he would be expected to ask, he already knew the answer to. Asking them anyway, duplicitous. Jeff took a sip of wine to momentarily hide behind.

Friendship should be based on honesty.

He placed the glass on the table, "I have a confession to make. And I hope you will forgive me," Jeff held the gaze of his companion, "I did a little digging and I know much more about you than you think I do."

His opposite took a large gulp of water, "I'm f….flattered to be of in…interest."

There was still awkwardness Jeff was desperate to stamp out.

"I believe I offered you a paid for place this side pond in the hope of first refusal."

Hiram nodded.

"How about instead, I fund your studies at Cambridge for the price of a yearly summer internship with the brains of my outfit, Jeffries."

Jeff inwardly smiled as his counterpart processed the offer.

"I can't t…take your money sir, but I'd be d…delighted to accept an i…internship."

Jeff rose and offered his hand which was enthusiastically shaken by the young man.

"Now I believe you have a date with your summer boss," Jeff stated, happy with the baby steps taken.

"yessir."

"I will make sure I'm on the shop floor when you arrive in June." Jeff added, as he walked him to the door.

Jeff watched him walked towards the elevator.

The man without knowing had confirmed the deadline, five months to move R&D to Kansas, a move already well in the planning stages. The tender's submitted just waiting for the first confirmed shuttle order to green-light it. Jeff vowed he would not only bring his departed guest into his company, he would, if he accepted, be bringing him into his home. Summer by summer Jeff hoped to find out a little more about the man, and from now on, only in the right way.


End file.
